


Quiet

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fear, Gen, Past Abuse, Storms, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cmcross prompted: "Sherlock is afraid of thunder."</p><p>Implications of dark childhoods, but no details. Rated G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cmcross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmcross/gifts).



John is having trouble sleeping because of the storm. The weather makes his shoulder act up some nights. He gives up tossing and turning and heads downstairs to make some herbal tea.

"Hi, John," his flatmate says. Sherlock is sitting at the edge of his stool in front of a few test tubes he's not doing much with, which seems to be for the best as his hands are shaking. He looks wired, thrumming with something John can't put his finger on.

John yawns, heating some water in the kettle.

"Interesting experiment, huh?" John asks as he waits. Sherlock has one hand in his curls, he's just twining it there, tugging lightly at them.

He looks over at John, though he still seems a bit far away. "Mm?"

"I said, interesting experiment? What've you got there? I can't sleep," John offers.

"Oh, yes, of course," Sherlock says, putting down the test tube. "Your shoulder. Perhaps I...? Oh, never mind."

The thunder crashes, as it has been, and John finally notices that Sherlock winces at the sound.

So that's it, then. Sherlock is afraid of the sound of the thunder. John clears his throat, "Erm, Sherlock—"

"Oh, I know you're not used to physical intimacy, John," Sherlock says with a wave of his hand. "This would be for your benefit, though, something to occupy us before you go to sleep."

"Something to occupy _you_ , you mean?"

Sherlock flinches at the sound of thunder and looks away from John. John knows. He runs both hands through his hair.

"It's okay to be afraid, Sherlock."

"I'm not!" Sherlock says quickly. Then, a moment afterward, he sighs and says, "Well, alright. I am. But it's not okay."

John moves to stand next to Sherlock, leaning down a bit. "It _is_ okay. You don't think I've ever been scared before?"

"No, I know you have," Sherlock says with a wave of his hand.

John sets his jaw and fixes the tea in silence.

"I didn't mean anything by that," Sherlock says. "You know I didn't."

"Alright," John says. "It's fine. But what do you mean about the intimacy thing? I dont have any trouble—"

"I don't mean during sexual encounters," Sherlock says with a grin. "I mean that you barely touch anyone. Likely due to your past."

"No," John says. "No, we're not doing this, not now."

"I don't want to think about the storm any more," Sherlock says with a growl. It's not really storms during the day that have the regrettable effect on him, just the night storms. And the one outside is particularly raucous.

"You can work at my shoulder if you want. But you have to drop the issue of the past, you monster of deduction, you." 

Sherlock smiles a little. He's doing much better now he's not alone. It's much harder to get trapped in his head. "Would it help if I said you weren't alone? If I said I had, ah...a tragic past as well?"

"You would, wouldn't you?" John says with amusement. He rests a hand on Sherlock's shoulder carefully. "I'm trusting you with that intimacy, okay? After my tea, we can head up. My shoulder could use the attention, and you could use a distraction. There's no harm."

"Harm? Of course there's no harm." Sherlock looks confused.

John pats his shoulder and then heads over to his mug. 

***

"John?" Sherlock asks, lying on his side next to John, who is drifting off on his stomach, a thin shirt between his skin and Sherlock's idly tracing fingertips.

"Nope. Not now, Sherlock. If I ever care to talk about it, and I probably won't, it won't be when I feel this bloody good." He closes his eyes, smiling slightly when Sherlock touches his hair a bit.

"The storm's nearly passed. It's a lot nicer when one isn't alone, isnt it?" He sounds curious, and a bit child-like.

"Yes, Sherlock," John says around a yawn. "It is."

"Do you...do you mind if...?"

"Get in the bed, Sherlock. Just shut up," John smiles, eyes shut. He feels Sherlock settle in next to him.

The next morning, the air is damp with the rain from the night before, and Sherlock Holmes is curled up on the small bed, half on top of John. But it's not so bad. Sherlock's quiet for once. Everything is quiet. It's nice, peaceful. 

John's grateful to Mike Stamford once again. To think, he'd intended on not stopping to say hello at the park that day.  Opening up to people's not always so bad. 

He rests his arm over Sherlock, another man he owes a lot to.


End file.
